A Love Story in Five Songs & Three Years
by Sfortuna
Summary: Subtitled "Or, How Sansa and Sandor Got Together in a 90's Era High School." A story in five parts. It's basically like the title and subtitle say. Rated because Sandor has a potty mouth.


**A Love Story in Five Songs & Three Years**

**Or, How Sansa & Sandor Got Together in a 90's Era High School**

**-Sfortuna**

**Disclaimer: **There are songs used in this piece of fiction that belong to their respective artists/bands/creators. None of those songs belong to me. The characters used here belong to a Mr. George R. R. Martin; once again, not me. As this was written as a sort of gift for Ines aka cabout on Tumblr, this also pretty much partially belongs to her. So basically I'm just a petty functionary.

**Part One: Cake - "Jolene"**

Sandor hated the first day of school. Not as much as, say, bratty kids and cauliflower, but that belonged to a whole other level of hatred. Were there circles of hatred? If he cared enough, he might have even made a list. As it was, the first day of school always sucked big hairy ones. Not only did it mean dealing with the teachers and doing homework, it also meant dealing with the new kids. The runts always stared at his face, which wasn't such a big deal, but they always got this look of horror and/or disgust. Sometimes pity, but usually just the horror and disgust. Really, high school was shitty enough without having to deal with a new bunch of runts gawking at him all the time and trying to secretively find out how he became so disfigured. At least when he was burned he only had to suffer through it once; every person that saw him for the first time was a fresh sort of ever-changing hell.

He stood out in the quad, leaning against a large tree, shaded from the early morning light. He had his headphones on, the better to not hear the exclamations as friends reconnected from their summer breaks, the little freshmen clustered into groups from junior high, and teachers waded in to guide the masses to their appropriate places or, in some cases, more appropriate behavior.

And so he watched. The tape in his Walkman finished playing _Pentagram_, then moved onto the opening chords of _Jolene_. He pulled his watch out of his pocket (broken band, never bothered to replace it, figured he'd just a buy a new one when this one finally died) and noted that he should at least start moving in the direction of his homeroom. His frame, especially large for a nineteen year old and still growing, parted the student body like his brother's big ol' knife through raw meat.

He made an effort not to look extra menacing today. Worn out second-hand Nikes, black track pants, swishing a little with his gait, a plain white tee, and his usual aqua blue letterman jacket. His black hair had a fresh haircut, though it lay sloppily across his skull; Sandor had been considering letting it grow out. _Nothing scary here kiddies, besides a face made by the devil. You're lucky my brother finally dropped out._

The hand holding the strap of his backpack hefted it a little higher on his shoulder, tapping to the rhythm in his ears. "_Jolene heard the singing in the forest. She opened the door quietly and stepped into the night.."_

So of course right as the last chorus kicked in, he saw her. Down the hall, stuffed full of teens all focused in on their own small worlds. Bright red hair, the very first thing that caught his eye. Then he focused in on the face; a perfect face, with bright blue eyes and flawless skin. A sharp little nose, angular jawline softened with a girlishly rounded chin. She was tall, taller even than quite a few of the boys, and combined with her face, it was hard to tell her age. She could have been a freshman or a senior, and Sandor just couldn't say which with any certainty, let alone her age.

_If there is any kind of god in this world... _Realizing he'd been holding his breath like some damn lovestruck fool, he steadily exhaled and began moving like a regular human again_. _He wanted to stand right next to her, smell the perfume she inevitably wore, let his fingers brush the strands of her hair, fuck, he wanted to touch _her skin_!

The warning bell rang, and she turned away from him, going up the stairwell. Nevertheless, he immensely enjoyed watching her ass gently sway up the stairs. With a sigh and a muttered curse that made the students closest to him back away, he ambled off to homeroom.

_"Well every time I pull you close, push my face into your hair.."_

**-Game of Thrones-**

New school, new state, it was all just so very new and exciting! Sure, she missed living up north, and her best friend Jeyne, but Mom said this would be a great opportunity for all of them. Dad's business would grow exponentially, Mom would make the political connections that Dad was too stuffy to work with, and when she graduated she'd get into one of the best colleges. Harvard, Yale, Brown, Vanderbilt...any of them would do, probably. She would think more on it in the future.

As for the right now, Sansa Stark simply enjoyed sitting in her classes, vibrating with the excitement of a new place and new people. None of her classes so far had actually gotten into any work, most of it involved passing out papers on the code of conduct and assigning textbooks. She was already noticing that some faces were showing up in multiple classes, and mentally noted them.

Fifth period was lunch. She followed the other sophomores to the cafeteria, which apparently doubled as a gym; the tables were set up on the waxed hardwood of a basketball court. Some were sitting in the bleachers with their trays over their knees or sitting next to them. The line had already stretched around the walls of the building, and with a huff of exasperation she joined it. The wait gave her time to observe the groups that formed before her eyes; Sansa didn't have much information for them, but some were obvious. There were the obvious "jocks," "popular girls," and what her mom liked to politely call the "alternative crowd." But of course not all of them were so cliche and simple to label. The rest were a mishmash of different teens; here a black guy with a smallish afro and hemp-made poncho, there a white kid with glasses perched on the edge of his nose nervously picking at his food, and over in the corner-

Sansa did a double-take, her mind blanking for a moment. Then it continued working properly and she observed the guy standing in the corner. He was large, over six feet, broad shoulders, muscled chest and arms, the picture of what any football coach would want on his team. But the massive scarring on one side of his face was the most shocking thing about him. Even though it had the worn appearance of age, the scarring was still a shiny dark pink. In a couple spots it knotted thickly, but for the most part it lay somewhat smoothly. Along his jaw the skin pulled taught, like a graft that just couldn't compensate for normal skin, and the scarring travelled only a little ways down his neck. On the side of his head there existed only the vague suggestion of an ear, and no hair grew on that side of his head. Looking at his eyes, she noticed the his brow drooped a bit into his eye on that side, but not so much as to impede his vision in any way. Noting the alert manner in which he gazed at his surroundings, she guessed that the eye had miraculously been spared the damage inflicted on his skin. His nose hadn't been affected too badly, the nostril on the scarred side still existed, with trailing fingers of the burn fading into the bridge of it.

As the line progressed forward, so did her observations. He wore a letterman jacket with the bright aqua blue of the school colors, white tee, black track pants, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. His arms crossed over his chest, the biceps bulging the fabric of his jacket, his tee clinging to the pectorals of his chest. Headphones rested around his neck, the cord trailing down to a pocket in his jacket. Dark hair, possibly black or a deep brown, cut short, grew thickly on the unmarked side of his head, with strands occasionally flopping over the scarring.

Sansa was arrested by him, and she really couldn't describe why exactly that was. Maybe the sheer dominating presence of him? She focused on the lunch line, and soon enough she was able to order her food and find a place at a table to sit herself. Sitting near one of the girls she had noticed in a couple of her classes, she introduced herself, and ended up conversing with Margaery and her brother Loras. Margaery was a sophomore like her, but Loras at sixteen was already a senior.

Throughout their chatter, Sansa would look around, her eyes always eventually finding the imposing presence of the large scarred student. Neither Loras or Margaery either noticed or called her on her temporary moments of inattention, but it finally came to the point where they had to leave or be late for their next class. Margaery did not share her sixth period class, but would be in her seventh, and she promised to sit next to her and introduce her to some of her friends.

As Margaery left, Sansa scanned the caf one last time. She hadn't seen him in the past ten minutes, and it looked like he had permanently left. Turning, she spotted something on the floor where he had stood for most of the time. Walking over, the noise level in the room almost nonexistent as teens went outside to find their new classes, she stood over a cassette that lay on the floor. Figuring he had dropped it, she bent to pick it up, _should I return it to him? He'd want to know how I knew it was his, and I can't say I've been watching him almost all lunch period. That's just so, so creepy! Ugh, now I'm turning into a weirdo. _She turned it over in her hands; the label, instead of being the typical printed sticker, actually was homemade. Masking tape written on with a blue ballpoint: **CAKE: Motorcade of Generosity**.

Undecided, she tucked it into a pocket of her bag and hurried to find her next class. Wouldn't do to be late on the very first day.

**Part Two: Radiohead "Faithless The Wonder Boy"**

Sansa had gone to these kinds of parties only a few times before; none of them since she'd moved south. But her boyfriend, Joffrey, said he'd been to many of these and that this one was practically tradition. It was a near the end of the year party meant to relieve the stress of testing and an excuse to get drunk. Sansa wasn't much for drinking, but she did love to go to parties and hang out with people. It helped that Joffrey was the son of her dad's best friend and maybe soon-to-be business partner, so of course Mom was willing to let her go wherever they pleased and run interference with Dad.

At first, she'd been excited. She dressed up that evening to look beautiful for Joff, a sundress with winter roses printed all over it in bright blue and yellow. Arya, her little sister, had watched her apply a little make-up and some jewelry with a scrunched nose and disgust.

"I don't like Joffrey." Arya had said out of the blue. "He's mean to Bran and Rickon you know. And he calls me names."

"Oh, he just teases too much. He gets that way sometimes." Sansa had replied, pinning up her hair with a flowery barrette.

He'd picked her up in his fancy car, a bright red Corvette, and he'd put the top down as they drove to the party. For the first hour or so, as he'd opened the door for her and led her around, introducing her to some people she had never met before, Sansa had thought him a real gentleman. But as he steadily drank more, and the older crowd got a little rougher, she became a little worried. Joff kept wandering off, leaving her alone with older and drunker partiers. At least half of the large crowd appeared to be college age, and partied as such. The music was so loud she was surprised that the cops hadn't been called on them. Three hours in and past midnight Sansa was ready to go home and leave the rowdy crowd behind. She'd been groped by too many older guys as she'd tried to get through to feel any amount of comfort and wanted to leave. Immediately.

She tracked Joffrey down outside by the pool. Tiki torches were lit, the underwater lights in the pool were on, giving the backyard a very dark and intimate atmosphere. Quite a few people were in the pool in their underwear, others danced in the grass or clustered in groups laughing and drinking. Joffrey sat in a deck chair with a small group clustered around him. Some she recognized from school, a couple she did not. Two things immediately struck her as she observed the group; Joffrey had his arm around a girl sharing the chair with him, snuggled quite closely together, and Sandor stood nearby with a drink in hand.

Sandor Clegane. She'd learned his name a week into the school year. She'd learned many things after that, now knowing what to ask and where to look. He was currently a senior, should have been graduated, but a long time ago he'd been kept behind. Rumors abounded as to why; most agreed it had something to do with his very scary older brother that had been in and out of prison. His brother Gregor had burned him when they were kids; once again, rumors abounded as to the how and why. He kept to himself mostly, did okay in his classes, but under no circumstances did he take any kind of crap from anyone. The person that tried rued the day.

She still had his tape in her bedroom, hidden in a sock.

Approaching the group, she felt some trepidation, but pushed it aside. Her distress at seeing Joffrey with his arms around another made it's way to the forefront.

"Joff! What's going on?" She slid into the group and interrupted one of the guys that spoke, though to her he wasn't making much sense.

"Sansa! Come here!" The arm not around the strange girl hit the arm of his chair, and he nearly lost his grip on the Dixie cup in that hand. Bets were good it was full of beer. "Come meet my friends! And Rosalyn.." He trailed off, squeezing the girl into his side, and she squealed playfully, pushing at his chest ineffectually. "You two would look fantastic together!"

She didn't know what he was talking about, but Joffrey was drunk.

"Joff, I want to leave, and you're drunk! How am I supposed to get home?"

He sat up at that, and his face looked as petulant as a child that wasn't allowed a cookie before dinner. "You can't leave yet! The parties barely started! Besides, I think you can prove a point that I was trying to make earlier." He swayed as he sat up even more and moved to the very edge of his chair, withdrawing his arm from around Rosalyn. "See, I've always thought that the dog over here," He jerked a thumb over his shoulder where Sandor stood at the edge of the group, nursing a bottle of beer, "can only get a kiss if the girl's getting paid. Ros here agreed with me, said it would take a lot of money to get her to touch him, but what about you? Would you kiss the brute?"

Sansa paled, then blushed a dark red. She looked over at Sandor and felt a deep sense of shame and embarrassment as the rest of the group drunkenly laughed, Joffrey guffawing so hard that he spilt his drink all over his lap and the chair.

**-Game of Thrones-**

In a concession to the celebratory atmosphere, Sandor wore a vest over his white shirt and a pair of faded jeans worn through at the knees. The red of his All-Stars were faded and worn, but worked well enough. He'd shown up late in the evening, putting it off, and then finally arriving only to wish it would be over soon. He'd figured out early on when he made it on the football team that if he showed up to these things and stayed a couple hours, it went a long way in getting the other guys, and especially the rest of the school to accept him and leave him somewhat to himself.

So he stood in this group or that, sipping at a bottle of beer that he'd opened himself, and eventually found himself poolside with the little shit Joffrey. He'd been absolutely furious when the creep managed to get Sansa to agree to go out with him. Be his girlfriend. He consoled himself with the thought that if she was too stupid to see through his little act then she deserved him. It never worked though.

He had seen her wandering around in the house, but managed to avoid her gaze. That didn't last, as she came outside, apparently looking for Joffrey since she made a beeline for him. The skinny fuck had his arms around that slut Rosalyn for at least a good thirty minutes, half that time spent sticking his tongue down her throat and his hands up her short leather skirt.

When Joffrey brought up his stupid little joke, Sandor nearly broke the bottle in his hand. It was not fucking funny that the beautiful little bird in her pretty little dress would never kiss him. He could see her fear at the very thought!

_If that fucking little dick doesn't shut up, I will shove this bottle down his throat and rip his hairless balls from his body!_

He hated being laughed at, made a joke of, especially when it came to his face. He took enough shit over it, and he wasn't interested in taking the lions share either. He glanced over at probably the only other sober person at the party, and noticed that the red in her face had disappeared. But instead of the fear of earlier, she looked positively stubborn. He had a few moments to wonder what exactly she was thinking before she crossed over to where he stood, grabbed his shoulder, and pulled down while she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him full on the mouth.

_Her lips are so soft, _he thought, dropping his half full beer in surprise. _Of course this song is playing. Of course. Story of my godforsaken life._ Radiohead, singing about how he never really got what everyone else had, how he never could quite get up the guts to go forward in life... _Her lips are so soft though. I want them, I want her! _The moments passed soon enough and she dropped back down to earth, their lips abruptly parting. The world came back into focus as he opened his eyes and looked down at her, sure that the shock was written plain as day across his face. But Sansa wasn't looking at him, her eyes were back on Joffrey who had stumbled to his feet and mouthed wordlessly, arms waving about like a loon.

"I would kiss him without getting paid. But I'd like to think I'm not a shallow, superficial, slutbag." Then she stuck her cute little nose in the air and grabbed his hand. She pulled him away, his brain completely shut down as he let himself be led away.

He followed her through the house, not really paying attention to the way the other people parted before them.

_"Too scared to talk, too scared to try, too scared to know the reasons why..."_

Her hand could only be explained as delicate, engulfed in the callouses and blunt fingers of his own. It was soft too, not as soft as her lips, but still. And her nails were a girly shade of pink, very feminine, and somehow just right. _Clearly she's killed me. I'm dead. I'm thinking about her fucking nails, so obviously I'm dead._

The music was not as loud as the front door closed behind them. She pulled him all the way to the curb, then stopped, her hand slipping from his and her shoulders slumping. Right before his eyes they started to shake, and he just knew she was crying. He stepped around her, and sure enough, quiet tears were slipping down her cheeks. Not really knowing what to do, he put one of his large arms gently around her shoulder and wiped at her dripping face with a finger.

"I'll drive you home." He said, and steered her down the road to where he'd parked his old truck. Sandor opened the door for her and helped her in, pointing out the clean napkins sitting in his glove box. He got in the drivers side, and to top off the imperfectly perfect night, his radio was on the same station that the party played.

_"Can't put the needle in, can't put the needle in, can't put the needle..."_

"Just let me know where to turn, yeah?" He said, pulling out into the street. Sandor glanced over at Sansa, and in the light of the street lamps she smiled tremulously at him, her cheeks dried with the crumpled napkins in her hands.

_"Can't put the needle in..."_

**Part Three: The Stone Roses - "Love Spreads"**

The night after the party Sansa Stark broke up with Joffrey Baratheon. She'd called three times; the first two his mother said he wasn't feeling well and wouldn't put her through, but on the third she actually got to speak to him. Joffrey had tried to shout, but it aggravated his headache so he whispered harshly, saying such awful things that Sansa had slammed the phone in the cradle. Not long after that the whole family knew; Joffrey's mom had called Sansa's, telling her that her poor baby was crying his eyes out because Sansa had cruelly broken up with him after she cheated on him.

Thankfully, she was able to explain that one away without even mentioning Sandor. However, school was worse. Rumors had flown as fast as fingers dialing a friends number; the gossip mill worked overtime that weekend. That first week, trying to handle the looks and giggles and whispers behind hands had her running home after school to cry into her pillow. The second week, she noticed that no one bothered Sandor. Of course they didn't, he was the biggest guy in school and beat up anyone that crossed him. Gossipers were probably right up his alley! Sansa thought on that as she went to bed one evening and decided that there was no good reason why she had to deal with it either.

Needless to say, the rumors and gossiping did not immediately stop, but they did dry up. The especially vicious moved on when they saw that Sansa no longer paid any attention to the whispers. Another couple of weeks went by and life was virtually back to normal for her. Her close friends Margaery, Myranda, and Shae stood by her the whole time and had encouraged the new stiff-spined Sansa. So with the worst of it behind her, Sansa went on with the rest of the school year.

The last Wednesday of the school year always meant a school-wide meeting in the large gym where basketball games took place. The principal and vice principal gave speeches and awards were handed out for attendance, high test scores, and other such things that would hold no meaning after graduation. Sansa, while she knew none of this would matter in a few years, still took a small amount of pride in receiving the test score awards. They were cheesy looking medallions with a trophy on the front and the score, test, and name of receiver on the back. Yet her dad had always taught her to be proud of her talents, and to always work hard. The physical rewards may have been cheesy, but when she showed them off to her dad, his pride and smile were as far from cheesy as possible.

Her name once again called, she stood from her seat in the bleachers and walked up the steps of the cheap dais. She shook the hand of the vice principal and stepped back into the little group standing there that had already received their medals. There would be pictures after everyone received their medal, part of the reason why she wore her nicest blue jean overalls with the wolf patch sewn on the front and a red and white stripped tee. Her black All-Stars wouldn't be in the picture, but she just felt a little more confident wearing them.

Humming to herself, she straightened up when the last name was called and the applause for the whole group rang in the gym. The photographer pointed out different people to move to more picturesque positions, and in jockeying she ended up falling against a fat freshman that bumbled around. They tripped up a bit, and then someone helped her upright. She ended up in front of the others, and at the last moment noticed the hand slipping off her straps. Before she could cry out or react in any way, her overalls were down around her ankles.

Sansa tried to edge back behind one of the girls, but her overalls caught her legs and started to trip. She reached out, trying to grab a helping hand, and managed to get a hold of the jacket of the fat freshman. Her eyes wide in horror, she saw in his face a sort of fear and shame that she didn't understand until he shook her off and ripped her shirt. He slipped back into the crowd as she fell back onto the stage, her bare legs splayed and caught in her overalls, her shirt ripped in the front and at the sleeve, baring her bra-clad chest and flat belly. Pale skin as far as the student body could see, and no one helped as, her utter humiliation complete, she felt a drumming in her skull and her breathing turn into panting. Sansa wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

**-Game of Thrones-**

Sandor hated everything about pep rallies and these stupid school-wide meetings. All the damn kids in the same too small (for him) space and their mindless racket echoing back and forth in the hard spaces. He sat up at the very top with his headphones on; it didn't do much to drown out the sound, but it at least made him feel a bit better. The teachers didn't bother with him over the small rule-breaking so long as it didn't cause any sort of trouble.

He graduated that Saturday though, so what did he really care? Soon enough this would all just be a memory to put behind him. Or would he? Sansa kept walking up to the stage, gathering her cheap little medals, smiling with those soft lips, sitting with her friends and chattering away. He didn't think he would ever forget her, or her kiss, or the way she quietly thanked him for driving her home after the party. Nope, the red-headed Stark girl would stick with him for some time, most like.

_"Love spreads her arms, waits there for the nails. I forgive you boy, I will prevail.."_

The Stone Roses strained to be heard over the shitty speaker system in the gym and the talk of uninterested students. At least the music muddled the words that were said. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and scratched at the good side of his face. He'd neglected to shave the past couple of days and the stubble itched; God only knew why, usually a little stubble never bothered him. But the weirdest things set him off these days, after Joffrey started all that bullshit after Sansa dropped him like a hot potato. When the rumor mill stopped affecting her as it used to, the boy got too quiet for Sandor's comfort. He'd seen Joffrey's work too often to think that the blond shit was quite done with making the Little Bird feel bad.

Speaking of, he watched her walk up the dais another time. She really did look nice today, but he thought she looked nice every day. It had been a while since she'd braided her hair like that though; he loved the way it hung like a thick shiny rope of fire down her back and bounced as she walked.

In those moments of his inattention a commotion erupted on the stage. He focused in, but all he could see was her body falling to the ground, legs and torso exposed to every eye, friendly and not, in the school.

_"Hammer flash in the lightening, they're hurting her again..."_

Sandor's heart stopped, his breath stopped in his lungs, and his vision filled with her prone form, arms struggling in the tatters of her shirt but ineffective in hiding the bare body. _I knew it!_

His muscles, well-trained out on the football field and in the weight room, responded as soon as his brain kicked into gear. Standing and taking the stairs three at a time, he stuffed his headphones into his jacket pocket, skidding onto the first platform and ducking around an immobile teacher. Snickers started to erupt as students pointed out the predicament before them. He slipped a little on the second landing, probably a spilled soda, but his sneakers regained traction and he bolted down the last flight.

_Why aren't those fucking teachers doing anything?!_

His long gait ate up the space, and he leapt onto the stage. The nearby gawkers drew back as his body mass thumped onto the cheap plywood construction. For the moment they were nothing to him; he focused on the now still body of Sansa, curled into the fetal position. It did little to hide her panties and long legs, but her chest was at least hidden from sight. The useless vice principal standing nearby seemed to snap somewhat out of his shock as he approached Sandor, hands up in a sort of appeasing gesture. In reply, Sandor snarled at the useless shit, his deep rasping voice sounding too much like his canine nickname and his scars pulling and twitching. The adult quickly back-pedaled, eyes wide and face pale; Sandor turned away and approached Sansa's motionless form. He couldn't see her face, hidden as it was in her knees and arms, but figured she'd gone into her own sort of shock. At that moment he could only feel hate for all the people in the building, even though they'd stopped outright laughing as soon as he stood on the dais. Being feared certainly had its uses.

He took off his ever present letterman and settled it over her; he'd had to special order it to fit his large shoulders and chest so it easily covered her slim form curled into a ball. Kneeling over her, he felt his pitiful excuse of a heart give a painful throb. She didn't deserve this kind of treatment, especially for having the good sense to leave Joffrey.

"You're all right, Little Bird. You're all right. I've got you now." He touched her temple, moving a few wisps of red back, and held his breath as her arm slid down to reveal part of her face. Her eyes were red, but her cheeks dry, lips pressed tightly together and gone nearly white from the pressure. He felt a sense of deja vu as he spoke to that pained visage. "I'll drive you home. You'll be safe with me."

Ever so gently he touched her temple again, and she nodded her acceptance. Turning his back on the crowded bleachers, trying to shield her as best he could with his body, he wrapped her more securely in his jacket and lifted her into his arms and stood in one swift motion. Her knees down were bare, but no one could see her underwear or soft spots anymore. No one stopped him as he walked out of the gym, and out of the school, with Sansa Stark in his arms.

Carrying her bridal style to his truck, this time he put her into the truck and buckled her in with his own hands. Remembering her instructions from nearly a month ago he drove her home, the cab near silent as he made turns and stopped at the appropriate signs.

Close to her house, she finally moved. Sandor glanced over to see her pulling out his Walkman and headphones. The song he'd been listening to nearly an age ago was the last one, so of course the cassette had automatically flipped off. Stealing looks at her, he watched as she opened the deck and pulled out the tape, reading his painfully neat script on his masking tape label.

By that time he pulled into her driveway and put the truck in park. Then he felt like smacking himself in the head; surely she didn't have her keys?

"Do you need any help?"

She put the tape back in his player and sat it on the bench seat between them. "Could you come inside with me please?" He wanted to snort in amusement at her using such niceties with him. No one ever used 'please' with any of the Clegane boys.

Instead of a vocal answer, he shut off the engine and got out, opening the passenger door for her and helping her down. Following Sansa to the front door, he watched as she pulled a key out of one of many flower pots and used it to unlock the front door. He followed her inside and locked the door behind them. Somewhat uncertain as to what she wanted from him, he followed Sansa up the stairs to the second floor. The house obviously belonged to an affluent family, a fact he had noted in the darkness of one am nearly a month earlier, especially with the number of rooms that led off from the main hallway on the top floor. He stayed out in the hallway as she entered what appeared to be her room.

Feeling awkward, he went to lean against the wall, but stopped when he noticed the pictures lining them. Feeling a little curious, he looked them over; holiday trips, family portraits, candids. He knew that she had a few brothers and a sister, but the pictures told him how well they all got along. There was love in the candids of the older boys holding up their sisters to reach apples on a high tree limb, in the snowball fights between parents and children, in the way they clustered around a newborn at the hospital. The love existed in the spaces between their bodies, love that had been missing from the Clegane family for a very long time. He touched the glass of a snapshot with Sansa and her younger sister front and center. Both wore fancy dresses, the flash highlighting sparkles in the fabric, but he was more arrested by the smiles and arms around each other. That was family.

Hearing the doorknob being turned, Sandor retreated from the photos and stood in front of her door. She stepped out wearing baggy genie pants with funky geometric patterns and a forest green tank top, her hair still braided. She peered up at him, eyes and face still dry, her hands clasped before her.

"You didn't have to do that you know." Sansa's voice came out whispery and hoarse, probably from the restraint of emotion.

"I had to. I'm not a fucking coward to stand by and let that happen to you." Sandor's voice came out just as quiet, but even more hoarse and raspy. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Her head tilted, a lot like his nickname for her, and a little smile spread on her lips. She still looked a little too pale to him, but the smile could only be a good sign.

"Thank you." One of her delicate hands reached out and grabbed his large hand, and she squeezed it. Her other hand raised up, and he saw in her palm a cassette. Curious, he picked up and immediately recognized it.

_The fuck? I thought I lost this..._ His only Cake tape, just the way he remembered it, lost on the first day of school forever ago. He wanted to ask where she found it, how long she'd know it was his, why she hadn't returned it sooner. But those things didn't matter all that much.

Instead, he put the tape in his jeans pocket and enfolded her in his embrace, arms used to pumping iron and taking down an opposing player being careful to hold her close without causing any hurt. Driven by the strange instinct that told him to hug her he lay his permanently damaged cheek to the crown of her head and smirked.

_"Ain't no king, yeah, she's my queen!"_

**Part Four: Nirvana - "Lithium"**

They get stares as they move through the mall, but that's okay. Sandor doesn't give a flying fuck quite honestly, because Sansa is holding his hand and has been for four months with no signs of stopping. They weren't really looking for anything in particular, Sansa just wanted to window shop, and Sandor wanted to to be with her every chance he got.

They looked like any other teenage couple, though Sandor was now twenty. He wore his blue ball cap backwards, the brim fraying from sweat and sun, and it served to cover some of his scars, making him look a bit more normal at first glance. An old Cincinnati Reds baseball jersey with the buttons undone and a white wife-beater undershirt covered his torso, with his worn jeans held up by a brown leather belt, and dingy red All-Stars completing his athletic ensemble. The only thing that didn't quite jive with the look was the necklace that he wore; it looked like some kind of fossilized dinosaur tooth hanging from a leather cord, resting just below his collarbone. Sansa had found it at a curiosity shop they'd stopped at over the summer, said it looked neat, and bought it for him.

Sansa, at sixteen going on twenty-three maturity wise, looked her usual pretty self in an over-large white blouse with the sleeves rolled up, bangles on one wrist, a medium length cotton tie-dye skirt, and flip flops on her dainty feet. She had her hair pulled into a messy bun at the back of her head and John Lennon-esque rounded sunglasses currently sitting on top of her head.

"Oh, Sandor, look!" She pulled him over to a toy display set up right in front of a large toy shop. "Rickon has been begging for one of these for his birthday." She picked up a box holding a bright blue RC car with lightning decals on the top and sides. "Especially since Bran's got run over last year."

He peered over her shoulder at the toy. He'd lost all desire for toys a long time ago, but it didn't bother him so much to look at them. He could see how five year old Rickon would love to play with a car like this.

"Bit expensive." He muttered, tapping a finger on the price tag.

She giggled and set the box down. "That's why I'm not getting him one! I'll leave that up to Mom and Dad. I think I'll get him a toy sword. You know, one that lights up." She reached over and pulled a sword out of a display barrel. "En guard!"

Whirling around, she poked him in the chest and playfully slashed at him, a large smile on her face. Picking up on the game, he stepped around her and easily nabbed a sword of his own, making his own attacks on her. The plastic of the toys smacked together, not terribly loudly, but enough to garner attention along with the sound of their laughter.

A sales person yelled at them from somewhere within the store, "Hey! Hey, you guys stop that!"

Sandor made a last stab at Sansa, and she caught the sword under her armpit, and faked a noisy death as she whirled on her feet and stumbled backwards. Lightning quick, he caught her up before she could hit the floor, their toys dropping to the floor. Passerby's stared as he dropped a kiss on her nose, and then planted a deep one on her mouth while Nirvana sang about lighting candles and finding God.

**-Game of Thrones-**

Sandor may have graduated last year, but Sansa still had to do homework and go to school Monday through Friday. She knew that the only thing keeping him around these days were her; he'd gotten a job at the UPS distribution center, loading and unloading trucks during the day. It kept him busy while she was at school and he earned fairly decent money. He would have earned better doing construction based on his brute strength alone, but he told her it would have him up at the crack of dawn and not done until late evening. At that point he'd pulled her close and whispered that he wouldn't be able to handle that much time away from her, tangling his fingers in her long hair and gently tugging on the strands.

That evening, they spent at Sansa's. She sat at her desk, stuck doing stupid busy work, writing a chapter summary for her US History class. Her parents were understandably shocked, her mom downright pissed, that she was dating someone as old as Sandor. At first they weren't allowed in her bedroom; _Mom thought we were going to do it, right on my bed, with everyone in the house! She still thinks that Sandor's getting a little extra something from me._ Eventually, her dad talked her mom into letting them have a little privacy and staying in her room, but only if the door was left open. Sansa was just happy that they didn't have to keep resorting to going outside and sitting on the swing. Autumn was in full swing and winter was coming. The southern winters couldn't hold a candle next to the northern ones, but no one liked hanging out in the cold when a nice warm house sat not ten feet away.

She glanced over her shoulder and smirked at her boyfriend. He'd stripped down to his wife-beater, his button-up flannel lay in a scrunched up pile near his hip where he sat on the floor, leaning against her bed, head cushioned by her mattress and covers. His large hands lay peacefully in his lap as he listened to the music his headphones played. She smirked, admiring his broad shoulders and chest, the biceps that bulged even at rest and tapered down to his finely muscled forearms. Only the unmarred side of his face had two day old stubble as no hair would grow on his scarring. Chest hair peeked out of the neck of his undershirt, and she couldn't help but laugh at how her tastes had changed. Not so long ago she was attracted to guys like Loras and Joffrey, lean of body and almost boyish in face.

Yet here she was, the decidedly masculine looking Sandor taking a nap in her room as she did her homework. Nothing about his looks could be considered boyish, though he did have a streak of awkward shyness at times that made her love him all the more.

_I'm too young to be in love!_ Her head screamed at her when her thoughts turned to thinking of him that way. _I'm sixteen for crying out loud! He's twenty! He could still find someone older, more experienced..._ As always, these thoughts made her heart hurt and her head swim. Setting her pencil down, she took the few steps to him and lowered herself into his lap. He startled awake, eyes blearily opening and focusing on her. Taking a look at her still-open text and work spread on the desk, he raised a questioning brow. She shook her head and curled up in his lap; Sansa didn't have to make herself all that small, for he was already large enough to hold her comfortably. She lay her head on his shoulder and listened to the music coming from his headphones.

His arms held her close. _"I'm so excited, I can't wait to meet you there, but I don't care... I'm so horny, but that's okay, my will is good. Heeeyyy..."_ Sansa giggled, and Sandor snorted.

**-Game of Thrones-**

His Little Bird's mother hadn't wanted him to come along on their weekend trip. She'd been fairly discrete about this, but nevertheless he figured it out. However, most of the Stark's liked him well enough, and all her brother's spoke up for him. Usually the whole family would fit into their SUV, but the addition of Sandor made one too many for a single vehicle. They managed to compromise; Sandor would drive his truck and follow Mr. Stark with Sansa and Bran in the cab. He was also able to easily accommodate all the camping materials, the bed packed with coolers, tents, and other camping amenities for a four-day weekend on the lake. The long drive ended up being rather enjoyable; Bran had a lot of smarts for a nine year old and was extremely observant. The best part was when he asked Sandor if he would marry Sansa and she sputtered and turned as red as her hair while he busted a gut laughing and tried not to swerve too much on the road.

Sansa told him that this sort of thing was a Stark tradition, and it became very evident as the whole family started in on tasks as soon as they pulled up to their campsite. Mr. Stark must have done some sort of early scouting; the spot was pretty far into the park and incredibly secluded, yet perfectly suited to their purposes with a grassy clearing and a shore gently sloping into the lake.

An artist couldn't have done a better job painting a perfect campsite.

That night they roasted hotdogs over the fire, with Mrs. Stark insisting on salads first so they got some greens in their diet. All of the guys and Arya grimaced, but ate the foliage without a grumble.

It would have been too much to ask for sharing a tent with Sansa, so Sandor didn't complain when he ended up sharing a tent with Rickon and Bran. Bran was a quiet, almost motionless sleeper, but Rickon kicked around and ranted like he was on drugs. Clearly, Bran was used to this sort of thing, as he slept through it like the dead. Sandor ended up dragging his too-small sleeping bag outside and laying near the smoldering fire. In the morning, he was woken up by Sansa's older brothers, Robb and Jon, laughing at him.

"Little Rick is quite a handful, asleep and awake." Jon commented, trying to keep his mirth in check.

"You're telling me. I think I have bruises." He muttered in reply, rubbing at a shin that had caught the brunt of Rickon's nighttime antics.

They had scrambled eggs, sausage, and orange juice for breakfast. Sansa leaned against him sleepily, woken up too early by an excited Arya who wanted to explore the woods, swim, and do five other things all that day. After they cleaned up the site and stored the food away, a walk in the woods was unanimously agreed upon. Sandor wasn't much for the forest, but it was nice walking in the dappled light, hearing birds singing in the trees, and his own Little Bird holding his hand and pointing out things that her dad had taught her from previous camping trips. She could name a fair few of the trees and some of the flowers, but there were quite a few she didn't know due to the change in clime. Bran, Rickon, and Arya ran about like wild things, making animal noises and chasing each other in and out of the trees and through bushes.

Eventually they returned to their campsite, Robb teasing Jon about some girl that kept trying to get him to go out with her. They had sandwiches for lunch; cold cuts with mayo, tomato, lettuce, and cheese. Sansa took hers without mayo, not liking the greasy texture. Somehow Rickon and Arya ended up throwing their lettuce at each other instead of eating it, ending up with Mrs. Stark scolding them and having them pick up the lettuce and dumping it in the fire pit.

Everyone changed into their swimsuits and made a break for the lake. Sandor almost didn't take his tank top off to swim. Robb was a year younger than he and Jon two years, but they also didn't look like the dog he was often referred as. They both had hair on their chests, but only a smattering across the pectorals and a trail over the navel that many girls found sexy. His chest, however, was fully covered, and only tapered some over his abs as it thickened down over his navel. Sansa had never before seen his naked torso and he worried that seeing him, and the number of scars on his body, would change her mind. _But if she doesn't like my fucking chest hair, then what the hell's the point? She might as well get a good look at it now, I'm not going to shave it for her or whatever else this new fad is._ And with that, he slung the shirt off and followed the Starks. Robb and Jon tossed the younger boys into the middle, while Mr. Stark had to tickle Arya into submission before tossing her in after her brothers. Mrs. Stark complained about the rough-housing, but her heart wasn't in it; she lay back on a towel on the shore, modestly dressed in shorts and a tank top, and left the swimming for everyone else. Mr. Stark had a shirt on, but wore trunks, and occasionally waded in to toss the younger siblings around. No one commented on Sandor's hesitation to follow them into the water.

Through observation Sandor figured that Sansa wasn't one for rough play, yet the trip required an addendum to that rule. In the lake all bets were off. Her brothers couldn't throw her like the younger three, but they could push her around and dunk her. He tried not to get in on it too much, he remembered injuring his teammates at scrimmages all too well, but occasionally he would "save" one of them and get a little revenge on Jon and Robb. Sansa often pulled away from the group to hug or kiss him, and usually Arya would make gagging noises or yell at them to stop infecting the water. Sansa tended to ignore her sister's disgust, but on this day she stuck her tongue out at her and would be rude right back.

_I love everything about her,_ he thought, laughing as Robb wolf-whistled and she blushed a shade similar to her hair color, then asked him if anyone else knew about how much he like to kiss a certain co-worker of his. That shut her brother up, and got the rest of the family to gang up on him for details. In the hullabaloo she pulled Sandor to the shore and led him back to camp. Both her parents noticed of course; Mrs. Stark gave him a warning look that mothers the world around were gifted with at the birth of their first child, and Mr. Stark simply frowned thoughtfully and shook his head.

She went to grab her towel, only he pulled her from her things and grabbed his shorts from the tent. He retrieved something out of a pocket and then took her into the forest.

Sansa stepped daintily, most likely so as to not cut her feet and asked, "Sandor, where are we going?"

"Don't worry, not far." He lifted her over a rotten log and took a turn that got them close to the riverbank. Spotting just what he was looking for, he turned Sansa to face the river and sunshine. "Don't turn until I tell you to."

He heard her moving around, and stole frequent looks over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't peeking. She occupied herself with looking at the river and digging a hole in the dirt with her big toe. He hummed a bit, hoping that would help keep her occupied and distract her from the sound of his industry.

_"I like it - I'm not gonna crack. I miss you - I'm not gonna crack. I love you - I'm not gonna crack. I killed you - I'm not gonna crack..."_

"Are you nearly done? Can I look yet?"

"No." He growled. "Not until I say."

She heaved a heavy sigh and shifted her weight back and forth. Another couple of minutes went by before she whined, "Can I turn around now?"

"Not yet!"

A few more seconds, then he was finished and put his hands on her shoulder. "All right, you can look now." They rotated so that she faced his work and he stood behind her, anxiously peering at her face.

"Oh," Her exhaled breath came out softly, a whisper of sound. The world quietened for him as she stepped forward and touched his handiwork, tracing the rough curves and lines. "Oh Sandor."

He'd taken his pocket knife and carved a heart into the tree with _SS + SC_ in the middle. The deepness of the cuts had sap running into the gouges, staining them a sort of amber color.

She whirled around and jumped on him, her arms holding tight around his neck and legs locking around his waist. His hands cupped her butt and he fell into her kiss without any resistance. They stayed locked like that for a few minutes, the kissing getting deeper and their emotions becoming more charged and intense as he pressed her against the tree he'd just carved their initials into. Sandor strained to pull back, and when he finally managed it he pressed his forehead into his work and tried to not think about how right she felt pressed intimately against him. The lack of clothes really didn't help.

Sansa stroked his hair, grown out some so that the length occasionally got in his eyes.

"You know," She started, speaking directly into what was left of his wreck of an ear. "Back north, there's this tribe of Indians that carved faces into the trees. A lot of the really old ones, no matter what kind, have these large faces, and they've somehow been stained red. Berries and minerals or something. But anyways, the tribe is now extinct because of disease and war. Yet these faces are just everywhere, and the other tribes refuse to talk about them other than they were part of the stories they told their kids about where they came from. If they even know what those stories are, they refuse to repeat them. It's a mystery that people have been trying to figure out since before America even existed."

Sandor inhaled slowly and deeply, holding it for thirty seconds before carefully exhaling. "Thanks."

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she smiled cheekily and replied, "Thank _you_."

**-Game of Thrones-**

Feeling every kind of exhausted known to mankind, Sansa sat on the bench outside the hospital and wept helpless tears. _How could this happen?! Bran never falls, NEVER!_ Yet he had, and he fell like the mythical Icarus. He wasn't dead, though every time that thought tried to be positive, her brain couldn't help but slide in a horrible not yet.

The others sat up in the waiting room. Rickon had been asleep in her mom's lap while Jon kept Arya occupied and Robb and Dad paced up and down, almost comically bumping into each other at times but no one had the heart to find the humor in it. She'd called Sandor a few hours ago, but he hadn't been home, so all she could do was leave a choked message on his machine that kept to the facts.

_What do I do?_

The tears wouldn't stop, and her throat ached with the urge to sob, but nothing would come.

"Little Bird, I'm here." The touch on her shoulder and voice in her ear registered at the same time and she threw herself at her boyfriend, desperate to escape the pain and tears and the whispers and her mother's broken look as Dad drove them all to the hospital. "I've got you, I'm here."

He rocked her in his arms, smoothing a hand over her hair and reassuring her with his presence.

"Bran's strong, he's made of Stark stuff, this is just a bump in his life, you'll see."

She wanted to believe him, but it was so damn hard when Bran was hooked up to so many machines and he had to be taken to surgery for a second time.

They sat like that for innumerable moments as her tears dried up. She had homework waiting for her at home and a Trigonometry test coming up in a week that she needed to start studying for. Her mind spun with trivial things that she needed to do, but her dad's pinched face and Robb's short sentences would interrupt them.

Suddenly she looked up and her dad was standing there, his long face still pinched, and his eyes shadowy.

"Sansa, you really should go home. Have Sandor take you. I'll be along with the boys in a little while, your mom wants to wait and hear about-" His throat didn't catch, so much as just fail. "-about Bran." She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed twice and licked his lips. "Just go home dear, you need to get some sleep."

Her father exchanged some sort of look with Sandor, squeezed her free hand, and then marched back into the hospital.

Sandor stood and went to carry her much as he had that one time so long ago when eyes had pierced her naked skin with their judgement and laughter. She shook her head though, squirming out of his embrace, only to get on the bench and let herself melt onto his back. He snorted, but she didn't really care what sort of thoughts were going on with him as she wound her arms around his shoulders and neck and locked her legs around his waist. She lay her cheek right next to his neck and felt the heat of his skin in the cool of the autumn night. Every bit of him spelled safety to her and so she drifted off..

...and awakened in her bedroom, this time to find that Sandor had wrapped himself around her. The throw that usually lay folded in her hope chest had been thrown over them, even though she was tucked firmly in his body, with her face on his bicep and his arm about her tiny waist. She felt his hot breath on her neck and his nose buried into her hair while he softly sang to her, his rough voice dragging at the lyrics in a strangely pleasant fashion. _Maybe that's what woke me?_

_"I'm so happy 'cause today I've found my friends... They're in my head. I'm so ugly, but that's okay, 'cause so are you... We broke our mirrors. Sunday morning is everyday for all I care... And I'm not scared." _

She didn't know why he sang that particular song; maybe it was fresh, or maybe he thought she liked it a little more than others. Those reasons didn't matter though, because he was there.

**Part Five: Oasis - "Champagne Supernova"**

Sansa felt terrified beyond reason. And when she didn't feel that terror, a horrible anger took its place and lit her up from the inside. The emotions that ricocheted within her made her skin go hot and cold, getting chills or hot flashes, and that on top of everything else drove her nuts.

She never expected to see Sandor on the morning news as she ate her cereal; especially when she saw him just the night before. Her heart had stopped beating when she the camera zoomed in on him sitting on a street curb, face bruised and bloodied, and handcuffed. A cop stood in front of him, clearly talking to him, while Sandor scowled right back without saying a word.

Of course Arya, sitting right next to her at the time, had seen the same thing and just had to scream about how Sandor was on TV. The whole family watched the news snippet; Sandor and his brother, Gregor, had got into some sort of argument which came to blows. The gas station that it occurred at had cameras, and the police were arresting both for disorderly conduct and assault pending their viewing of the security footage.

Mom was furious when she told her that she would not be going to school that day so she could see Sandor at the jail. Dad had quietly told her to be careful and have Robb take her there, the surrounding neighborhood was generally not very friendly. So she'd finished getting ready and Robb drove her in near silence. Ever since Bran's accident they'd all been a little more quiet and introspective.

The fear kicked in as they searched her for contraband. The anger made itself known when she watched him be led into the visitors room. A guard stood at the door while her boyfriend walked to the table she sat at in a horribly ugly and ill-fitting orange uniform.

She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and be told that everything would be okay. The rules, however, dictated that no bodily contact was allowed.

He sat on the same bench as her, straddling it so he faced her. His hands were cuffed, and clanked any time he moved.

"It'll be all right Little Bird." He said, fingers tapping close to her leg. She could tell he wanted nothing more than to touch her, as she wanted to touch him, but their meeting would inevitably be shortened if they did. "It was self-defense the whole way. Tapes'll prove it. I wouldn't do anything that would keep me away from you."

Sansa was so afraid. She'd always known that Sandor frightened people with his size and scars; he also tended to look pretty surly, especially when she wasn't nearby. He screamed "bad guy" to anyone and everyone, the perfect scapegoat for any crime. But his brother was even larger, a great hulking giant of a man that could not be all natural.

"Do you need anything?" She whispered, the hot cold feeling chasing the nerves all over her body.

He shook his head, frowning, a twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth that she knew only made an appearance when he was especially upset. "It might take a day or so, but I'll be out soon. I'll call when I get out, no worries."

"Are you sure?" Sansa bit her lip, wanting to hit him for getting pulled into a fight and wanting to hold him close and never let go.

"Yes. They're all afraid of me here." He peered at the guard over by the door, a good ten feet away, and touched her hand. "Get gone, you should be in school. I'll see you soon." He withdrew his hand and went over to the guard. His handcuffs jangling and the big steel door opening and closing were, in her mind, some of the scariest and saddest sounds in the world.

Robb sat in the drivers seat of his little four door Nissan, tapping his fingers to the song on the radio. _"Slowly walking down the hall, faster than a cannon ball. Where were you while we were getting high?"_

"Well?" He asked, turning the engine over and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Things aren't as bad as they seem." Her brother asked a couple more questions but she wouldn't say anything else to him, letting her forehead rest on the window as she stared unseeingly at the passing landscape.

_"Cause people believe that they're gonna get away for the summer. But you and I, we live and die. The world's still spinning round..."_

**-Game of Thrones-**

Sandor couldn't stop kissing her. Really. His lips were permanently attached to hers and there was nothing anyone could do about it. He would live out his life and die with Sansa kissing him and that would be the best thing since sliced bread.

A throat cleared, and he knew that her parents probably weren't appreciating the show and he really _should_ let go of her now. That didn't mean he had to do it all at once. He lingered, her softness trying to keep him close, yet he finally pulled away. Pulled his lips away from hers at least, he kept his arms around her in a loose embrace that not even her mom's condescending look could get him to release her of.

"Well. I see things are back to normal now." Catelyn Stark definitely did not like him, and he was very much aware of that. But at least she didn't actively ban Sansa from seeing him, especially concerning his recent imprisonment.

He ignored her comments and pulled his present out of his jacket pocket. He'd made a mix tape for her when he got out, a way to express his feelings since he was utter shit at it with is own words. Wrapped in a bit of ragged blue ribbon, it had his typical masking tape and ink label. So under her mom's disapproving gaze, he hands her the tape and stutters, "I didn't know what to call it, so I just wrote my name, I hope that's okay-"

"It's perfect." She smiles up at him, and he feels the tension in his shoulders release as she takes it from his hands.

"I have to go now, see if I still have a job." He felt his mouth twist in an attempt for a smile but as usual it turned into a weird smirk/grimace that he couldn't prevent. Yet she always seemed to know what he really meant to convey and smiled back even wider, her teeth flashing up at him.

All through his interview with his boss he thought of her, and the tape he'd made for her, and what, if any, kind of future they would have together. _Marriage...? I'm twenty-fucking-one-years-old and thinking about marriage! With the Little Bird! With Sansa! Jesus Christ and all the damn saints...Could I even do that? I can't even tell her I love her, I have to say it with a damn tape._ In the end, after a long talk and chewing out, he was able to keep his job, though with the understanding that if he got into any more trouble he would not be expected back.

He drove back home, relieved that for now all of his big problems were over for the most part. He still worried about the future though, his brain still puzzling over marriage and college and kids... _Holy shit. I could get her pregnant. We could have little birdlings together._

_"Wake up the dawn and ask her why, a dreamer dreams she never dies..."_

Pulling into his driveway, he saw the object of his confused thoughts sitting on his porch. He lived in a somewhat unsafe part of town, and couldn't help but be ticked off that she came over all alone and night coming on.

"I knocked and rang the bell, but I don't think your dad is home..." She trailed off, her hands playing with the multi-colored woven bracelet at her wrist. He sighed, and most of the anger left him. Of course his old man wasn't home, and that was probably better than him being around.

"Don't worry about it, come on in." The lock turned fine, but as usual the door got stuck and he had to bang it with his shoulder to get open. "Just come on through to my room."

The house looked dark and rather vacant except for the armchair in the living room right in front of the TV. Beer cans and some empty liquor bottles were scattered around; most other furniture was either missing or in an advanced state of disrepair. Sandor had two deadbolts on his door which worked much better than the one on the front door. He guided her in before shutting the door behind them and putting a chain on. This was only the third time she had been to his place, and the very first time she'd been in his room. He kept it spartan for the most part, and on the clean side. Some of his dirty clothes lay around the hamper, but otherwise his bed was made, dresser and nightstand free of clutter, and bookshelf carefully organized with his few possessions that were not clothes.

She seemed to take it all in with a glance, and sat with her legs crossed at the end of his bed. He kneeled on the floor in front of her and waited impatiently for her to speak. _Did she listen to the tape already? Is this the end? Did she like it?_ But instead of words, she put her palms over his cheeks and her thumbs caressed his cheekbones. The fading sunlight streamed in through his window, highlighting her hair and giving her a soft halo. Her round sunglasses perched on top of her head, catching some of the sun as well and throwing the color on the shabby grey paint on his walls. Her face had some shadow to it, but he could read her face better than his own and she appeared to be on the verge on tears.

"I'm sorry you didn't like it." He murmured. "I just-" Words failed him and he shrugged, shrinking away from her touch and turning away.

"No." She grabbed his shirt, pulling him in. He could have resisted; Sansa had some steel in her bones, but not enough to go up against his brute muscle. Sandor could not deny her anything though. "I just-" He watched her mouth move and nothing come out, before she let out a growl of frustration and stood. For a moment he thought she would walk out the door, but instead she walked over to his stereo. It wasn't anything fancy, he got it from Sears for fifty bucks, but it had two slots for cassettes, making it easier to copy his own tapes.

The first song started, and he knew it was his mixtape she put in. She skipped a couple of tracks and then let it play on, turning and grabbing his hands, pulling him up to stand before her. He gulped, and she pulled his arms around her waist, only letting go when she made it clear that he wasn't to let go and cupped his jaw.

Her eyebrows knotted over the bridge of her nose. "I love you too, Sandor Clegane. And I won't let you ever forget it!" Sansa yanked him down into a kiss, their noses bumping and someone's lip bled, but he didn't care, _she loves me! Sansa Stark loves me!_

_"Some day you will find me caught beneath the landslide. In a champagne supernova, a champagne supernova in the sky..."_

He lowered her to the bed, holding her as close as he possibly could, and buried his face in her neck. He didn't want, but couldn't help, the tears that leaked out of his eyes and ran down to her exposed collarbone. He felt her kiss his scarred over cheek and hugged her even tighter, refusing to let go for the rest of their lives.


End file.
